A Glass
by stellar asterism
Summary: Gilbert didn't think that losing one bet would give him so much trouble.


Playing the piano during the evening was quite enjoyable, Roderich absently thought, fingers moving across the keys in smooth motions. It became considerably more silent around his residence after the sun had set, and the silence gave a new touch; a hint of elegance, or mystery, perhaps; to the melodies he played. He didn't usually play at this time of day, preferring to use his evenings to rest and prepare for tomorrow, but once in a while, something like this wasn't too bad. A little change in his routine wouldn't be too—

A series of loud knocks abruptly interrupted his thoughts and threw off his concentration, causing his fingers to slip and create a cacophonic sound that made him cringe. Clicking his tongue, the brunet stood up, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and quickly went to greet the unexpected visitor before the moron broke his front door with that kind of knocking.

The moment he opened the door, a thoroughly familiar figure greeted him with a cocky grin and a lifted eyebrow.

"Took you long enough, young master," the visitor said, arms crossed and head tilted slightly, "I was starting to wonder whether you had gotten lost in this lovely mansion of yours."

Roderich sighed. Not all changes in his routine were good, he quietly commented in his mind. "What business do you have here, _Herr_ Weillschmidt?" he calmly, coldly said, tone as sharp as his glare.

"Oh, no need to be so formal, four-eyes," the Prussian lightly said, waving his hand dismissively, "I know that my awesomeness has led many—including you, apparently—to place me on a higher position than theirs, but formalities are so boring. Like you." He paused before quickly adding, "Well, you _can_ be interesting at times, though that doesn't happen often."

The brunet scowled slightly, suppressing the urge to just punch the annoying nation right then and there. "I shall take that as a compliment," he monotonously said, "Now what do you want, Gilbert?"

"I'm here to let you bask in my awe—"

"Speak in a normal, understandable manner, please."

Gilbert pouted slightly. "Fine, fine, I'm here to take you drinking," he grudgingly murmured.

"Drinking?"

"Yes, drinking." The blond eyed the other nation suspiciously. "Don't tell me you've never heard of it."

"I _have_ gone drinking before, moron," Roderich replied, "I simply had never thought that you, of all people, would invite me to it."

"To be fair, I'd never thought that I'd be asking a prissy aristocrat to go drinking with me, either," the Prussian bluntly said, pouting slightly, clearly displeased about the situation. Damn Francis for winning that bet and making him do this. "Anyway," Gilbert started, breaking the awkward silence, "Are you going or not? The place's going to get crowded if we don't leave now."

Roderich was silent for a while, eyes fixed on the blond as he weighed his options, wondering whether he should accept or reject the invitation. "...Very well," he then said a few moments later, "Allow me to retrieve my coat first."

The Prussian almost couldn't believe his ears—and his unusually bad luck. He'd been hoping that the brunet would refuse, which would make things much, much easier on him; Francis only told him to _invite_ Roderich to go drinking, after all. He wasn't obliged to actually make the Austrian accept the invitation.

Somebody must be cursing him.

—

"...I would like to return to my residence at once."

"Excuse me?" Gilbert threw the glasses-wearing nation who was sitting next to him a disbelieving look. "I go through all the trouble of inviting you, and now you're saying you—"

"I feel too... inappropriate in here. It's uncomfortable," the brunet reluctantly admitted, clenching his fists slightly.

"Your behavior's what's inappropriate." The Prussian glanced at the untouched glass on the counter. "Hell, you haven't even touched your drink! Honestly, specs, you need to loosen up a bit."

"I do not—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Gilbert finished his drink in one gulp and set the empty glass on the counter, hopping off his seat. "Look, I've a little something to do, so do me a favor and stay right where you are." He smirked mockingly. "Can't have you getting lost on your way home, now, can we?"

"I will not—"

"Be back in a minute," the red-eyed nation calmly said, waving at the brunet as he disappeared into the crowd. He smirked to himself, making sure that Roderich wouldn't be able to see him as he once again approached the other end of the counter. Discreetly, he called one of the bartenders, whispering something into the young man's ear before returning to his seat, snickering quietly.

"...Why do you seem so amused?" the Austrian nonchalantly asked as he watched the former nation slip back onto his seat, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nothing you need to know," Gilbert calmly replied, ordering another drink. "Oh, look, you drank the whole glass," he commented upon noticing the empty glass sitting in front of the bespectacled nation, his smirk widening. "Didn't think you had the guts to."

"Only because it would have been a waste otherwise." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "When are we leaving?"

The blond didn't answer; he simply sipped from his glass, watching the bartenders intently, as if he was waiting for something. His expression lightened up once a young man set a glass in front of Roderich, who instantly shot a questioning look towards him. "We'll go home once you finish that," he calmly said, pointing to the seemingly harmless drink, though the mischievous smirk on his lips hinted at the true nature of the drink.

"...I am _not_ drinking that," Roderich bluntly said, looking at the liquid suspiciously.

"Fine, then we'll be here until morning."

How the brunet wanted to literally punch some sense into Gilbert right then and there. Still, there was no sense in starting a commotion here, lest he spark a full-blown brawl between the bar's customers. He would just have to rely on what little patience he had left.

"If..." he tentatively began, garnering a glance from the Prussian, "If I drank all of it—"

"We'll go home right away." The blond finished what was left of his drink, a confident smirk on his lips. "I swear on my pride as a Prussian."

Roderich sighed, a defeated expression on his face as he took the glass. He hesitated for a moment, debating on whether he should drink it or not before pushing his second thoughts aside and finishing the drink as quickly as possible.

"Uh, specs?" Gilbert nervously began, unsure if it was healthy for even a nation to be drinking something that strong at such speed, "You might want to—"

The Austrian banged the empty glass onto the counter, effectively cutting the other nation's words. "Now take me home," he sternly said, though his choice of words clearly showed that he was drunk.

Gilbert was silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "Oh, I'll definitely take you home," he said, the usual mischievous grin returning to his face. There was no way he wasn't going to abuse Roderich's statement, not when it was practically begging to be misinterpreted.

Calmly, he withdrew several bills from his pocket and paid for the drinks before leaving, leading the inebriated nation out of the place by the hand. He couldn't have the aristocrat getting lost now, not when he was finally starting to have fun.

—

For some reason, Roderich wasn't too surprised to be greeted by an unfamiliar sight when he woke up. Perhaps it was because he still remembered the events of yesterday, from the unexpected invitation to the unusually strong drink to the part where fell asleep while... while...

The brunet abruptly rose to a sitting position, the resulting headache forgotten as he immediately looked around. It was dark, but the small amount of lighting the moonlight provided was just enough to make out the outline of the room; enough to help him recognize it as a certain nation's room. Those panda-shaped figures and the general messiness of the place gave it all away, really.

Carefully, he searched for his glasses, finding them lying on a nearby nightstand. He quickly put them on and began reassessing his surroundings, only to further confirm his earlier guess—he _was_ in Gilbert's room, and he had, apparently, been sleeping on the other nation's bed. Thankfully, he was still clothed, though his coat and shoes were nowhere to be found, and... and why in the world was he here, anyway? He remembered telling Gilbert to take him home, though the exact details of the exchange were rather fuzzy—oh, wait, did he blatantly tell the Prussian to...

Roderich sighed. This was why one should watch one's words when near or talking to Gilbert. The blond might not seem all that intelligent, what with his reckless antics and such, but he could be quite the cunning one when prompted.

Slowly, the brunet stepped off the bed, fully intending to leave, regardless of whether he could find his way home or not. Everyone already knew about his tendency to get lost anyway, and at least half of Europe knew what Elizaveta would do if they did anything to him. He should be fine.

Before he could even complete his first step, however, his foot had already collided with something, or rather, someone, as the large bundle he had just accidentally kicked began murmuring curses.

"...Can't even get some sleep..." the figure murmured, pushing away the blanket that was draped over him as he rose to his feet, "Honestly, I let you use my bed, and this is the thanks I get? A foot prodding my back?"

"I... did not realize you were present," Roderich slowly said, his tone somewhat apologetic, if only for politeness' sake; he wasn't particularly inclined to apologize to this nation, of all people. "The room is also rather dark, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, save your excuses." Gilbert crossed his arms, shooting the brunet a scowl. "Look, go back to sleep right now. I'll wake you up before sunrise tomorrow and return you home." He shrugged. "Can't have anyone know you're here. Especially West. Oh, he's so going to chew my ears off if he knew..."

"...Gilbert, I fail to see why my presence is a problem—"

"Well let me enlighten you, young master," the blond interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "I happened to have forgotten that I had made a promise to _mein Br__üderchen_ that I won't bother you for two weeks, starting from two days ago, because a certain aristocratic bastard whined to him about being teased all the time," he continued, tone gradually becoming more annoyed. "And breaking promises reduces my awesomeness, so I can't let him know about this."

"I see," the Austrian deadpanned, his lack of interest obvious. "Then why did you invite me to drink?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment before grudgingly murmuring, "Francis won a bet."

"Ah, then that explains everything." The brunet smirked slightly. "I thought something was strange with your behavior."

"Shut up, four-eyes." The Prussian glared at the other nation. "Go back to sleep."

Roderich chuckled quietly, taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand before returning to the bed. He would have complained about the situation, but he decided that the other nation already had enough to deal with at the moment. He could always save the complaints for later; for tomorrow, perhaps, during the trip to his house.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was thoroughly convinced that someone _was_ cursing him. How else was he supposed to explain his unusually bad luck?


End file.
